


No-Longer-Unattached Drifter Christmas

by momo_owo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 12:27:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13681674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momo_owo/pseuds/momo_owo
Summary: Dean struggles to tell Cas that he loves him.AKA: In which a psychotic skinwalker gives Dean a bit of Valentine's Day advice and Dean spends the rest of the day in a crisis.





	No-Longer-Unattached Drifter Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Just a hurried fluff piece to get me back in the mindset of writing after a year+ hiatus.
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day!

Insomnia is no stranger to Dean. What _is_ new is the annoying tugging feeling in his chest urging him to just _say something_ before his body gives into exhaustion. Dean sighs, burying his face in the dark tufts of hair in front of him.

“If you love someone, you need to show them,” the woman had told Dean, right before attempting to eat the heart of her lover.

Despite the fact that the deranged display of “love” from a skin-walker gave Dean no helpful ideas, the words stuck with Dean the entire day. An entire day purely devoted to expressing love, Dean realized after reading a chipper text from Charlie. Valentine’s Day.

On the drive back to the bunker Dean stopped at a gas station and found a plain box of chocolates hidden under a mount of frilly, heart-shaped atrocities. He tossed it into the back seat at Cas with an awkward, “Here, knock yourself out.” This earned Dean a rewarding smile from the angel and an odd look from Sam.

Dean wondered if Cas knew.

When they finally made it back to Lebanon and everyone had cleaned up, Dean made dinner instead of retreating to their bedroom with a few beers to pass out. Sam hovered around the kitchen, unsure if he was invited to the meal or not.

“Of course,” Dean told him. “It’s nothing special.”

When Sam brought out some candles that he found God knows where Dean threatened to throw away Sam’s burger. “Who knows what weird voodoo shit those candles might do?” Sam agreed, put away the candles, and the three of them had one of the tensest meals Dean had ever experienced.

So Dean is lying here, several hours later, trying to figure out how to show a formal celestial being that he loves him.

Castiel’s voice breaks the silence. “Dean, are you having trouble sleeping?”

Dean huffs out a laugh. “Was I thinking that loudly?”

“Yes.”

Dean laughs again at the blunt reply. This should be easy. No matter what jumbled mess comes out of Dean’s mouth, he will never be as awkward as the fallen angel he currently has his arms around. He’s Dean fucking Winchester for Christ’s sake. He’s stopped more apocalypses than he can count, he’s lied straight to Death’s face… he can tell an annoyingly perceptive (yet somehow still clueless) fallen angel that he is in love with him.

“I was just thinking,” Dean starts. He waits a moment, glad Cas can’t see how red Dean’s face probably is right now. Though he may be able to feel the heat on the back of his neck. “Is the Loch Ness Monster real?”

Dean has no idea what turn his train of thought took to arrive at _that_ destination.

Unsurprisingly, Cas answers him. “Somewhat.” Dean’s interest actually peaks at that. “The famous photograph of the ‘Loch Ness Monster’ is authentic. The animal was a plesiosaur, an extinct Mesozoic marine reptile.”

“How did it get there?”

“It was the work of a trickster,” Cas explains. “Likely Gabriel.”

“Huh.” Dean ponders that new bit of information for a few minutes. He’ll have to let Sam know tomorrow. The nerd will probably lose his shit.

As they fall into a less-than-comfortable silence Dean tries to work up the courage again. “Hey Cas?” His voice actually _cracks_. As if this situation isn’t embarrassing enough, now he sounds like a nervous teenager trying to ask out his crush while going through the first stages of puberty.

Castiel doesn’t seem to notice. “Yes, Dean?”

“Uh… who really killed Kennedy?”

Out of the most unromantic things to blurt out on Valentine’s Day, that one has to be on the list somewhere.

Dean is so wrapped up in his thoughts that he nearly misses Cas’ response. “I did.”

Dean unwraps himself from around the angel and turns on this light on the bedside table. “Wait, _what_?”

Cas rolls over halfway, squinting at Dean groggily. “It was a joke. Apologies, I thought I was getting better at my delivery.”

Dean bursts into a hysterical fit of laughter as he turns the light back off because it _was_ pretty funny and Dean has been slowly losing his mind today. It was nice to have a break from the mental turmoil.

“No, you are getting better,” Dean tells him between chuckles. “You’ve just told me so many unbelievable things that nothing seems impossible anymore.”

“Thank you,” Cas tells him with a tone of pride in his voice.

Dean pulls the covers back over them and drapes his arm around Cas again. “Hey, Cas…” he begins again.

“Yes, Dean?”

The next hour or so consists of deep conversation as Dean puts off what he really wants to say and instead asks a myriad of questions that only a millennia-old, divine being can answer. The millennia-old, divine being does his best to answer in between sleepy yawns.

“How much space is actually in space?” In words Dean could not understand, basically a shit-ton.

“Do aliens exist?” While there is life on other planets, none is intelligent, let alone able to visit our planet.

“Who was Jack the Ripper?” The infamous serial killer was a woman named Mary Pearcey.

“What’s the deal with the Bermuda Triangle?” The area of ocean and airspace has no more odd experiences than the next, but for some reason it has become a mysterious human urban legend.

“How was Stonehenge built?” Dean stopped paying attention after the first few descriptions of ancient technology.

Once Cas stops quietly rambling about rocks and leverage, his breathing slows down and Dean is sure he’s asleep.

“Hey, Cas?” Dean whispers. “Cas?”

When the angel does not respond, Dean musters up what he tries to convince himself is courage and mumbles out a quick, “I love you,” into the back of Castiel’s head.

He nearly has a heart attack when Cas lets out a sigh. Something about the sigh sounds smug, if such an attitude can be heard in a simple breath of air. Maybe Dean is just overthinking. Maybe Cas _is_ asleep and this wasn’t some trick from the intuitive, messy-haired angel who sometimes seems to know Dean better than he knows himself.

“I love you too, Dean.”

Dean can finally breathe because he just spent over an hour skirting around the topic and Cas probably _knew_ the entire time, but still humored him until he was ready to say those stupid three words.

Dean falls asleep seconds later with a smile on his face.


End file.
